“Mr. Dawson,” the young man answered, very seriously, though not in the slightest degree rebukingly, “really I can add nothing to what I told you when I first had the pleasure of seeing you. As I said then, I have not the slightest intention of disturbing the account, not to the extent of one cent, so far as I can see now. Indeed, you may safely assume that this money will remain untouched for an indefinite period. I’d rather keep the money here than in a safe-deposit vault. Still,” with a smile for the first time, “if you think I’d better transfer my account to the Eastern National, or the Marshall National, to save you further——”
“Oh, my dear Mr. Grinnell!” in a tone that conveyed to a nicety his shock at being misunderstood, “I merely wished to learn more about you from a natural business curiosity. We certainly are satisfied if you are.”
“Well,” Grinnell said, smiling again, “I am twenty-nine years old, single, an orphan, a graduate of the School of Mines. I live with my sister at 193 West 38th Street, and I believe in a republican form of government under a Democratic administration.”
“My dear Mr. Grinnell,” said the president, with a look of regret to hide his annoyance, “pray do not imagine for an instant that I had any desire to pry into your personal affairs. You know, we like to take an interest in our depositors, just as we wish our depositors to take an interest in us. Your bank president should be your business father confessor. The time may come when we may be of use to you. I shall be glad to give you my best advice, should you ever care for it. And, Mr. Grinnell,” with a smile, paternal to the last eighth, “I am a month or two older than you. I have had some experience in many lines of business,” excepting that of Mr. George K. Grinnell, who did not accept the subtle invitation to confide. Then, with a final smile, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder: “As for your account, Mr. Grinnell, may it continue to grow! We can stand it if you can.”
“I am glad to hear that; very glad indeed, I may take you at your word. Being young, I am, of course, very wise, Mr. Dawson. But I have hopes of getting over it. When my account becomes really respectable, I, doubtless, shall be more than glad to avail myself of your advice. I shall value it highly.”
“It is yours at any time, Mr. Grinnell,” said the president, shaking hands. He did not show any surprise at the intimation of greater deposits in the future. It was as well that he did not. On Thursday of the following week, Mr. George K. Grinnell deposited an Assay Office check for $500,000 lacking a few cents. It made a million of gold bullion which the young man had sold to the United States Assay Office, and of which he had deposited the proceeds in the Metropolitan National Bank. The president did not forget the incident when the cashier sent in a memorandum, but promptly summoned the official.
“Mr. Grinnell has become quite a depositor, I see,” he said.
“Every Thursday he comes with an Assay Office—”
“Yes, I know. It seems to be a habit with, him. If he should come in next Thursday, or at any time, let me know at once. Don’t ask him to come into my office, but let me know he is here, at once. Has he drawn any checks on us?”
“No, sir; not one.”